


Wait

by xenous



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Crying, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Face Slapping, Hair-pulling, Handcuffs, Kneeling, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV First Person, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 09:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18280058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenous/pseuds/xenous
Summary: Gary's point of view as he waits for Mark on his knees.





	Wait

Doing my best to hold still, I kneel on the glossy wood floor in our bedroom and try to breathe normally. I shift my weight a little, even though that’s against the rules. It hurts, but at least it’s not the cold tile that we have in other parts of the house. I’ve knelt on that, too, and it hurts more. I can’t hold still for very long on the tile.

I look down. Goosebumps are popping out and the hair on my arms is standing up as my body temperature drops. I wrap my arms around myself; my mind instantly wondering, is this allowed? Probably not. He has so many rules. I lower my arms back down to my sides and try again to slow down my breathing. I can feel my heart pound against my rib cage.

My clothes are in a heap nearby. All of them. I try not to shiver; it’s too soon to be cold. I press my hands into my legs, so they don’t shake so hard.

I wonder what’s next, because he never tells me what he’s going to do. He always likes to keep me guessing. I could be awaiting pleasure or pain. Usually, it's pain...but the pleasure, if and when it does happen, is so much sweeter that way. I alternate between fear and excitement; back and forth, back and forth, until my hands are sweaty against my legs and my throat is tight when I try to swallow. Jesus Christ, I could be stuck here alone for one more minute or one more hour.

We'd just got home from a meeting with the rest of the band and management about our upcoming appearances and tour. Mark had been staring at me all throughout the day and during the car journey home. That’s why I’m not surprised that when we walked in, he set down his keys before turning to me and saying, “Now, Gary, you are going to go up to our bedroom, take off all your clothes and immediately get on your knees in the middle of the room. You need to hold still, and you better not touch yourself.”

He caught me by surprise then, though. Feeling the heat of a blush spreading up my cheeks, I took a minute to turn away and think about what he'd just said as I pulled my jacket off and tossed it onto the couch. I guess it was a minute too long, because he roughly grabbed a handful of hair on the side of my head and quietly growled, directly into my ear, “Now.”

When he gets quieter, I know that I had better listen. Even thinking about his voice and how he said ‘Now’, makes my hard cock twitch and tingle. He released my hair and pointed to the stairs. Without a word I turned and practically ran up them.

To take my mind off of my aching knees, I go through the day in my head. Did I do something wrong? Did I do something right? Either way, he would have a good reason to send me up here and put me on my knees, right? Shit, he doesn’t need a reason, at all. And if he had one, he doesn’t have to tell me. But I try to guess at it - my mind comes up with nothing. I shift again, just a little.

I want to sit back on my heels but if I do, and he comes through that door and sees me…Jesus then I’ll be in for it. The thought makes me get a little harder and the corner of my mouth turns up, just a little. He’ll take one look at me and say, really quiet, “Oh, Gary, you’re going to get it now.”

Even better, I could sit back  _and_ jack off. Christ knows how much I want to. I’ve been hard since my dash up the stairs. I got up here, shut the door, and I pulled my clothes off, with trembling hands, and there it was, my nice big painful erection. It would almost be worth the punishment, if I could just sit back, give my middle aged knees a break, and yank on my painful prick until I made a nice sticky mess all over my hand.

But shit, his punishments hurt more than my knees and my hard-on.

Even if I manage to sit back, jack off, clean it up and get back on my knees all before he makes it back up here, it doesn’t matter. Because he’s going to ask, I know it.

“Gary, did you stay on your knees?” I can hear his voice in my ears, and God my cock tingles again, at just the picture I’ve made in my mind. Him standing over me, my beautiful boyfriend with that quiet sweet voice that has an edge like a knife. “Gary, did you touch yourself?”

Of course I’ll have to answer him, and of course, I’ll have to tell the truth. I would never, ever, ever lie to him. Not about this. Maybe I say relationship-saver lies, like “Of course I love that shirt, Mark!” But this? I would have to tell him the truth, and then he would lower his voice. “Oh, Gary, you’re going to get it now.”

And then he’d have to punish me.

My cock twitches and aches. Shivering for real now, I groan out loud, just a little. I hope he doesn’t hear me. That’s against the rules, I remember that one. I don’t know how long my knees are going to hold out. Jesus Christ, I’m getting old.

Eventually, I’m going to have to sit back. I’m stuck here, and when he does finally walk through that door, I’ll be at his mercy.

Groaning again at the increased pressure in my raging erection, I smile to myself. He knows exactly what he's doing to me.

I do my best, honest to God, but I can’t hold still any more. I don’t know how much time passes; it fucking seems like forever. My knees feel as if nails are being driven into them, so I sit back. I have to. Of course he knows this. He knows how long I can wait, how long I can hold still, how long I can kneel, and then he pushes me just a little past that point…and I can either manage to get through it or suffer his consequences.

Disappointed in myself, and with fear tightening my stomach, I sit and lower my face and shiver. The room is nearly dark by now. The sun has crawled below the horizon during the time I've spent here; and with the lack of sunshine, the coolness of the early spring evening creeps into our house. I am now officially cold. I wrap my arms around myself instead of holding them at my sides: another rule broken. My stomach tightens more. I swallow and listen intently, until finally, I hear his footsteps, and I feel my face flush with happiness. Jesus, I'm pathetic.

I get back onto my knees and put my arms down. He opens the door, and I stare at him, feeling my cock get twice as hard as before. He’s just amazing, with his hair perfectly styled, wearing nothing but a tight pair of black briefs. He pauses by the door to light a bunch of candles on the dresser, and now there's a flickering glow on his pretty face. Not that I give a shit about the lighting, but he does look nice in the candlelight.

He gives me his signature charming smile and slowly walks over to me. Without a word, he tips my chin up with his fingertips, leans down and kisses me. He presses his sweet lips to mine and uses his tongue to take possession of me; swirling and pushing, along my teeth and tongue and inside my mouth, and he bites my lip lightly with his teeth. He runs his small hands through my hair. I groan as I try to kiss him back, but that’s when he pulls away and takes his hands off of me, so abruptly, my heart aches.

I try to hide my disappointment as he smiles at me. “So, Gary, did you obey me? Did you kneel and hold still? Did you touch yourself?” His voice is just as I had imagined: quiet, sweet, and razor sharp, all at once. My erection buzzes and tingles.

I have to answer, I know I have to answer. God, I don’t want to speak. I just want to fuck him; I want to stand up, scoop him into my arms, dump him onto the bed, and climb aboard. I could make him feel so fucking good. But even more I want…this. The waiting, the delay, even the pain and shame, make it so much sweeter in the end. I just have to get to the end in one piece. 

But that’s part of the magic. It's like music. It's not always pretty, it's not always beautiful or perfect, but when everything comes together in the end, there is nothing else in the world that compares to it.

“I didn’t touch myself.” I start with the easy one. He raises his eyebrow at me, smirks and looks down at my near-exploding hard-on. 

“I can see that.” He grabs my chin, hard, and I feel a hot flush of fear course down my spine. “But I think you're avoiding my questions. Answer me, did you hold still?” He shoves my face like I am an object in his way. I feel my cheeks grow warm as well.

I look down and swallow. He knows damn well how long he made me hold his position, and how hard it is for me. It's just not fair.

“It hurt,” I began.

Grabbing my hair in his strong fingers, he gives it a good yank, and my face is tipped up so far, I can barely keep my balance on my knees. I can’t keep the whimper from escaping my lips as I grab hold of his arm to keep from falling over.

“Get your hands off of me,” he says. His voice has gone quieter. I get that hot flush again, through my whole body, as I put my hands down. He has me pinned by the hair, barely balanced on sore knees. He continues in that quiet, razor’s edge voice. “Did I ask you if it hurt? Do I give a fuck if it hurt?”

“N-No, Mark,” I manage to say through a tight throat. God I am so hard, it’s just impossible. 

“Right. So answer my question, Gary. Did you hold still? I’m not going to ask again.”

“I…I didn’t hold still. I disobeyed you. But-”

He yanks on me again. My head is tipped back so far, I have to arch my back. I whimper again.

“Shut up. There is no ‘but’, there are no excuses. You know this, Gary. None. You didn’t obey me, end of story. I told you to hold still, and you didn’t. I suppose you broke rules, too? You’d better answer my question right away. No more of your bullshit.”

He takes his hand out of my hair, and I cautiously bring my head forward, lower my face, and draw a deep breath. I want to shift on my knees, but I’m afraid. I look back up at him. He looks down at me as though I am nothing, like I'm just something to be dealt with, then gotten rid of. My throat tightens and my nose is burning, but I don't want to cry, not yet anyway.

“Yes, Mark, I broke the rules. I didn’t keep my arms down at my sides. And I made noises without permission.” My knees are on fire. I don’t dare move.

He shakes his head and sighs. “What am I going to do with you? I am always correcting you. Maybe I should just give up.”

He walks away to make his point. He has his hand on the door knob. I am flooded with panic, that he might leave me here, alone, wanting, needing, desperate for him, for anything from him.

“No, please,” I cry. “Please, Mark, stay.”

He turns around and looks down at me as if I might slightly amuse him, after all. “Please,” I whine again.

“Well, what must I do, Gary, if you won’t follow my rules?”

My cheeks burning with shame, I know what he wants me to do, and I'm humiliated to my core. But I must, I must please him, he can’t leave me like this tonight! I lower my face and speak to the floor; I can’t meet his eyes.

“Please, punish me,” I murmur through my tight throat. Unable to control them any longer, tears fill my eyes. I look back up at him, blink, feel the hot, sticky trails run slowly down each of my warm cheeks and make the inside of my nose burn. “Punish me and I’ll learn how to be good, don’t give up on me, please, Mark, I need you.”

He smiles a little, then laughs, “Do you honestly think I care what  _you_  need?”

“No...no, of course not.” I look down again. I move my knees before I can stop myself.

Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain force my face sideways as he slaps me. Hard. The loud 'crack' sound resonates throughout the room along with the involuntary cry that's ripped from my throat. Before I have any time to recover, though, he grabs my hair again, on the side. Christ, he'll end up ripping it out if he carries on any longer. He raises his voice a little; it sends a chill down my spine.

“What the hell are you doing? You are begging me to teach you the rules, yet you are breaking them right before my eyes. You are being very bad right now, Gary.”

“Yes, I know, I’m sorry.” He releases me with that demeaning shove again.

He leans in and kisses me again, tenderly, long, and hard; with his hands cupping my face and tipping it up gently. I am so hot and hard for him, I groan as he kisses me. He presses my lips until they hurt and I am nearly suffocating.

“Please...” I say, gasping for air, when he pulls away. My lips are warm and sore, he has kissed me so hard. He smirks at me as his eyes travel down to my hard cock. I feel my cheeks flush with the heat of embarrassment. I haven't even been touched down there, and I'm so fucking horny, ready to burst. At least I seem to be amusing Mark enough to keep him in the room.

“Please what, Gary?”

“Please fuck me.”

He laughs outright at that one.  _Well, it was worth a try, anyway,_  I think.

“Oh, Gaz, I’m not going to fuck you until I discipline you. I might not fuck you at all. You really need to learn the rules before you get any of that. Now, I think it may be a good time to get reacquainted with your belt. Believe me, you are going to have some nice bruises to help remind you of the rules. What do you think, hmm, Gary? Would you like me to use your belt?”

Jesus, I hate it when he does this; it's so humiliating, saying the words out loud. He caresses my cheek with his fingers, knowing that I struggle with this the most, yet that's why he's always so adamant about making me admit what i want...what I need aloud. I turn my face and kiss his fingers. My face burns. “Mark, use the...the belt.” I say meekly.

“Say please, Gary. Use a complete sentence. Otherwise, I might just leave and have a look at what's on TV. I’m just about done with you right now.”

I draw a deep breath. “Please, Mark...please punish me with the belt.” I say it nice and clear. I look up at him and suffer on my burning knees. I press my hands, which have gone sweaty, into my thighs to hide the trembling and swallow past the lump in my throat.

He smiles. “Now, that’s much better. You ask so nicely, Gaz, I suppose I’ll stay and see what can be done with you.”

“Yes, thank you! Thank you...so much.” I choke out. I shift my weight again on my knees. There's just no comfortable way to hold this position. God, when is he going to let me up? I feel like I’ve been on my knees for four days.

Shaking his head at my movements, he says, “You keep moving around like that, and you’ll get more than the belt, Gary. You know I can think of additional ways to discipline you. The belt can be just the beginning. Is that what you want?”

“N-No, please, I’ll hold still. Just the belt, nothing more, please...please...” I plead.

He shakes his head. “Be quiet. We’ll see.” He walks away and picks up my jeans from the pile of clothing. Grasping the silver buckle, he snakes my black leather belt out of the loops and folds it up in his hands as he walks back over to me. I start trembling with fear when reality hits home at the sight of the belt in his hand. I break out in a cold, clammy sweat that I want to wipe from my forehead, but I don’t have permission to move. I bite my lip. This is always the worst part; the time before. The preparation, the fear, the sweating.

He just stands there holding the belt, watching me. He smiles sweetly. “You look so lovely when you're afraid, Gary. Just beautiful.”

All I can do is tremble and answer him miserably, “Erm...thank you.”

As he walks over to me, all I can see is the belt in his right hand. I tense up, and flinch when he lays his left hand gently on my shoulder, and gives it a gentle squeeze. And then I forget myself altogether and do what he has just been waiting for: I move my sore, painful knees yet again. I realise what I have done only when it’s too late. And I realise that he was going to wait and watch me as long as it took, to catch me breaking the rule. There was no way I could avoid this.

His smile disappears, and he says, “That’s it, Gary, now you’re going to get it.”

Fuck. I can only shake my head. I can’t speak, my voice is caught in my throat.

“Get up, now, and lay face down on the bed. Right now, don’t make me wait. You know you need this, Gary. We need to sort you out.”

I stand up, feeling creaky and stiff after all that time on the floor. My erection is harder than ever. Trembling, I lay on the bed, and I can’t help but say meekly, “Come on, please, Mark…do you have to?”

“Why are you speaking, Gary?” He asks, "You're only going to make it worse for yourself." I stretch out face down on the bed. At least I'm off my fucking knees.

“I'm sorry Mark...I-please, don't...oh God.” I beg, face down, my voice muffled by the blankets. I begin to feel sick with fear and anticipation as I clutch at the covers with a death grip on either side of my face. I flinch when I feel his hands on my body, claiming me as his own. He doesn't reprimand me for speaking; he is usually lenient with me if I'm begging. He likes it.

Without saying a word, he runs his fingertips up and down my arms and back a few times with a slow, delicate touch that makes me tremble. Gently prying my hands from the covers and pulling them up to the headboard, he handcuffs them together over my head. He squeezes the cuffs so they are on tight and I can only whimper into the covers when I pull on them and they pinch my skin.

"Shh, don't start complaining now. You know you deserve this. If you would just follow my rules and do as you're told, I wouldn't have to discipline you so much." He is once again running his hands along my body, now stroking harder and further down, from my chained hands, down my back, over my arse, down my legs. I try very hard to stay still; I want to please him so much, it hurts. "You're just so beautiful, Gaz, you've worked hard and gotten yourself into fine shape. So strong and beautiful." 

"Thank you," I manage to whisper. I'm too terrified to have a conversation about pre-tour workouts. But I'm grateful that he is pleased. My body belongs to him.

He finally reaches my feet, and he has shackles ready down there too, attached to the foot of the bed. He crosses my ankles before locking them together, then pulls the chain tight and sets it on the hook at the bottom of the bed. I'm stretched out, vulnerable, bound and ready. I'm ready to burst; I'm so hot and hard. I wonder if I can get off secretly, by moving against the covers. He must have read my mind, or he knows my mind too well, anyway.

"You better not squirm around like a slut, trying to come, Gaz. You know that you're not allowed to come without permission." He is once again stroking and caressing my skin, up and down my body. I tremble and groan. He slaps my arse, hard, with his open hand. It stings and makes me gasp, but I know it's nothing compared to what's coming. "I told you to shush; I don't want to hear you complaining, with any of your little pathetic noises. Got it?"

Turning my head to the side, between my arms, so I can breathe and speak, I can barely squeak out, "Yes, Mark." I'm afraid, and on the verge of tears. "Please..."

I feel the weight shifting as he gets off the bed and picks up the belt that's set by my chained ankles. Terror floods me all at once and I pull uselessly on the cuffs, both overhead and at my feet, and I hear the metallic 'clank' and the rattle of the chains. "Please... please..." I whimper. 

"Be quiet. This is happening, Gary. Any more noise, and it's only going to be worse. I already have something else in mind for your blatant disregard for my rules later. I can always think of more, if you need it."

Giving up trying to talk, I tense up my body in preparation for the first blow. I don't know where it's going to land. That only makes it worse.

I can hear the belt coming through the air for a half second before it hits my skin with a burning, stinging blow on my arse. Jesus Christ, it hurts like fucking hell. With a gasp I instinctively try to jerk away, and I only pull my wrists painfully in the tight handcuffs as a result. I curl my fingers tight around the chain and clench my teeth.

"That's it, my beautiful thing, keep quiet," he says for encouragement. I hear the next blow coming and once again he brings the belt down, hard, onto my arse, now slightly lower. I jerk and gasp. The pain is extraordinary. He's strong for his size. Like me, I guess. I don't feel strong right now, though. I can't help it; the tears fill my eyes, and with a whimper I am weeping into the bed covers.

Over and over he hits me now, each blow a fiery blast of stinging pain. He pays particular attention to my arse, like always; but just as a surprise he occasionally catches me off guard by visiting my shoulder blades, lower back, and even the backs of my knees. Holy shit, that hurts - getting beaten on the back of your knees. Gasping and weeping, I bite the inside of my mouth. I flinch and try to twist and escape each blow but I am bound so tightly, it's no use. My wrists and ankles are sore from yanking on the cuffs. I am drenched in my sweat; the covers are damp with it.

Pausing his relentless assault, he says calmly, "Gary, why am I punishing you?"

I'm gulping for air and sobbing, having turned my face to the side, by my bound arms. My arse is on fire with pain. And he expects me to talk. Jesus.

"I was...bad," I manage through my tears. He draws closer by leaning in.

"Yes, and how?"

"I...disobeyed you." I turn my face down and sob and gasp into the covers.

He seems to consider this, running his fingers through my sweat soaked hair for a moment. I feel my cock harden and buzz just from his close proximity.

He stands back up and lays into me yet again. I want to scream, it hurts so bad. But the most amazing thing is, I don't even consider the safeword as an option. I'm such a goddamn submissive, through and through. The pain is extraordinary, but somehow, despite the pain and the chains and the rules, or because of them, I feel more free here, with Mark, than anywhere else in my life. So instead, I bite the inside of my mouth and whimper as I try to breathe through the pain. Finally, I cry out, "Please,"

"Please what, Gary?" He has paused, at least. I am panting for air as I writhe with pain.

"Please, I'll be good. I'm sorry...please stop." 

"How do I know you'll be good? What will you do next time?" His hand is in my hair again, but this time he's not being gentle. He pulls on a handful of damp curls and forces me to turn my tear soaked face towards him. I can only groan and gasp.

"Please, I'll hold still when you tell me to wait for you on my knees."

"You'd better. What else?" 

I could barely think. God, why the hell does he make me have a fucking conversation with him when my arse is throbbing with pain and I can hardly breathe? Well, I do know; he has a reason for everything. If he doesn't engage me once in a while, I'll slip away into subspace, and he doesn't allow it, it's too pleasant for me. So now I'm being forced to think and talk. I try to process his question and catch my breath.

Before I even know what's happening, he's upright again, a few more fast, hard blows land on my arse. I whimper and groan, I just can't stay quiet any longer. "Gary, what else? You're taking too long."

"M-Mark, please, I'm sorry...when I was waiting for you, I made noises...I moaned. I-I'll be quiet when I wait for you. Please, oh shit, please don't hit me again."

He swings the belt hard, and taking his time with it, he lands five more good blows to my poor sore arse.

"What else, Gary? I swear to God, I'm going to beat the shit out of you if you don't talk about the rules you broke...all of them."

Reduced to nothing but pain and shame, I writhe and sweat and whimper, "P-Please...I moved my arms...I'm sorry...I didn't k-keep my arms at my sides." My words come stuttered between sobs. Finally, he tosses the belt by my feet. I feel it thud on the bed. I am crying into the covers.

He climbs onto the bed and lays against me, skin to skin. I realise, he is naked. Somewhere along the line he must have tossed the briefs. I am hot and soaked in sweat. His skin is cool, dry, and so soft. I turn my face to look into his eyes, but I am panting so hard, I cannot speak.

"You took that so well, Gaz," he says as he gently pulls my hair from my face. "I was hard on you. But you deserved it, didn't you?"

"Yes, I-I did. Thank you...for helping me." I manage to say through my weeping and heaving breaths. He lays his arm across my sweaty back and gives me a little squeeze. The feeling of his skin on mine is electrifying. He smiles at me.

Shit, I'm still hard as a rock. My cock aches, and he hasn't even touched me yet.

Sitting up beside me, he takes a hold of the sweat-soaked beard on my chin and moves his face close to mine so he can look me in the eye. His voice drops down to that quiet knife edge. "Gary, listen carefully...stay with me. I'm not through with you yet. Remember, you kept moving on your knees, right before my eyes? That was bad, Gary. It's one thing to break the rules when I'm not around, but it's another thing altogether for you to disobey me while I'm standing right in front of you. You need to learn some self-discipline. Your purpose is to please me, not to seek your own comfort." He releases my face.

I press my teary eyes shut, then open them again on him. "Please, Mark, forgive me," I say meekly. "Please, no more punishment. I'll be good..." Shit, my arse hurts so bad, I can barely think.

"No, Gary, you're not getting out of it, no matter how pretty you are when you beg. It's time to stop talking now."

I'm in no position to argue, despite the new surge of fear that washes through my body. I wonder what he's going to do next. I know better than to ask. I gasp for air as he's talking to me.

"Gary, I'm going to unlock all the cuffs, but you are not to move until I give you directions. Remember, don't move or speak until spoken to. If you don't listen, I start all over again with the belt. You'll be very sore for the show this weekend. Got it?"

I'm already going to be sore for the show. It's in two fucking days - I may as well start coming up with excuses as to why I don't want to sit down and play the piano as much as usual.

"Yes, Mark." I answer as I still try to catch my breath. I can't quite stifle my sobbing, as more tears seep from my eyes and soak the blanket beneath me. My arse is throbbing.

He rolls off me and takes his time with the little key. He kisses my fingers, each one, and unlocks the hand cuffs, leaving them hanging on the headboard. In case he thinks I need them again, I guess. Then he's at my feet, unlocking the shackles at my ankles, and leaves those there, as well. I use this opportunity to calm down with the crying and get my breathing under control. I'm sure he gave me the time on purpose; a small gift. Nothing he does is an accident. When I am free of the cuffs, I remember his directions and hold still. I even keep my ankles crossed.

"Very good, Gaz," he says, as he runs his fingertips down my spine. He crosses a few sore stripes from the belt, before pausing on one and pressing hard into it. I tense up and groan. "Shh, be still. I will bruise you if I want to." He presses again. I obey and clench my teeth.

He continues the caress. I tremble as he lightly strokes my poor arse. Then he pauses and pinches me. It hurts so fucking much, I have to whimper, and more tears fall to the covers.

He fakes a sound of pity, "You poor thing, that's got to hurt. But we both know, you need it, right Gary?"

He stands up by the bed. "Yes." I whimper. I'm just miserable and my cock is so hard, it hurts.

He lays a cool hand on my ribs, and on my hip. "I'm going to roll you over now, Gaz. That lovely rear of yours is going to hurt when it hits the sheets, but I don't want to hear any complaining, do you understand?"

"Y-Yes, Mark."

He rolls me over, and he was right, my arse burns anew at the pressure of my weight on the bed. Groaning, I try my best to hold still. I want to curl up on my side, but that would not end well for me. I clench my teeth and look up at him. "Be quiet and put your arms down at your sides. You can uncross your ankles."

He climbs onto the bed as I lower my arms to my sides, and then he's on top of me, straddling my stomach, but without touching me. I instinctively reach for him with both hands. He pushes them away and holds them down as he speaks, quiet and knife sharp.

"No, put your hands down. You are going to learn some self-control, Gary. That means you are not to move, speak, or come unless I say so. I'm not going to bind you, that would be too easy. You are going to have to hold yourself still. You know the rules, so follow them. This is your last chance. If you refuse to listen, then I'll chain you and hit you so fucking hard with that belt of yours that you won't sit for a month. And I'll be so disappointed, that I'll make sure you won't come at all tonight. I'll lock you up nice and tight all night so that you won't even be able to touch yourself. Got it?"

Looking up at him during his speech, my throat tightens with fear at what he has planned for me if I can't follow the rules. I don't doubt for one second that he'll follow through with his threats, either. Fuck, his rules are so hard to follow, and his punishment is so horrible, that I know I'm doomed. But I nod, and he slowly releases my arms, which I keep still at my sides. Unable to stop myself, I feel the tears yet again fill my eyes and blink them out. They slide down my sweaty temples into my hair and ears. Jesus, I cry so damn much. But this is where I can cry. He allows me to cry, even more than I allow myself - encourages it, even. So I sob and sniffle like a little kid. I'm so afraid and overwhelmed.

He smiles, and bending over me, kisses my cheeks gently. "Close your eyes, Gaz," he breathes. I obey him. He gently kisses my eyelids, my forehead, my lips. "Take a deep breath," he whispers. I do as he says. I must. Eyes closed, I breathe. "Again," he says, as he cups my cheek. His fingertips are so soft and cool on my hot, sweaty cheek. I breathe again, and I have stopped sobbing. "Open your eyes, Gary. You can, and you will do this."

All I can do is open my eyes and nod. I just want to please him, more than anything. He pushes damp curls from my sweaty forehead.

He bends down again, and continues kissing me, moving down to my jaw and my neck. With slow, and methodical precision, he finds and brushes every inch of my skin with his lips and teeth. His touch is delicate, as if I could break at any moment. I try to relax through it, but the way he brushes his naked body across mine to kiss my shoulder and collarbone...God. I quickly grow desperate for more. I want to feel his stiffness, his chest, his hands, anything. But he keeps going with the gentle kisses. They're like little butterflies landing on my skin. I want to groan. Clutching at the covers to keep my hands still, I bite my lip to stay quiet. For once, I'm going to keep my big mouth shut. I'm going to follow the rules. I turn my face and squeeze my eyes shut.

Hovering over me on his hands and knees, he inches his way down my stomach, kissing, nibbling, caressing; all gentle, covering every inch of me, and I can make a good guess at what he's got in mind. Jesus Christ, I don't stand a chance. I curl my fingers into the covers tight and hold my breath. 

"Yes, Gaz, you guessed it. I'm going to suck your cock, and you are not going to come, unless you want to start with the belt again." 

I look down my torso at him and shake my head in desperation. He laughs. "Oh, yes. You are going to learn to follow the rules, Gary." He snuggles beside me, his head on my hip, and gets comfortable. Wrapping an arm tight over and around my hips, he grabs my beaten arse. At his touch my breath hitches and I tense every muscle, before he leans over and slips his mouth over the tip of my cock, and starts to lick and suck it like it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen or tasted. Christ almighty. With tears in my eyes I tremble and claw at the blankets at his light, tormenting touch. He's methodical and takes his time, working his way up my cock, taking more and more of it in to his mouth, then pulling off, only to start the torture all over again.

Fresh sweat erupts from my pores as waves of agonising pleasure and desire flood through my body. I can't help but squirm under him, trying to get more of my raging hard-on into that tight, warm mouth, and he stops immediately to say, "You'd better quit squirming around like a slut, Gary, I mean it. I don't think your arse will appreciate it." 

I blink more tears that slide down the sides of my face and join the sweat to accompany in soaking my hair. Nodding to him, I hold still and close my eyes to think of every non-sexy thing I can imagine as he practically swallows my cock, then delicately licks it again. I think of one of my old school teachers. I think of gross food. I think of people I hate.

"Gary Barlow, lift your head, open your eyes and watch me. You need to stay here with me." He has paused to look up at me, and figured out what I'm up to.

Shit, he knows me too well. Tipping my chin to my chest, I open my eyes and watch as he works my hard, aching cock in his luscious mouth. Again, I'm in agony as the waves of hot pleasure threaten to take me over the edge. I gasp and whimper as I tense up every muscle in my body and clutch at the covers for dear life. God no, God no, Jesus fucking Christ...my mind is filled with every possible way of swearing and cursing at my engorged cock that only wants one thing...

He stops in just the nick of time.

Sobbing, I lay my head back and squeeze more tears to fall to the sweat soaked sheets. I don't think I could last another second. Even if he only brushed my cock with his fingertips, I would explode. I almost just consider giving up and letting go. 

Almost, but...no. I hold out for him.

He is back up on his hands and knees, over me, and then he straddles me again, without even touching me. He leans over and kisses my mouth as I continue weeping like a child. He presses his lips to mine, tenderly, and lingers for only a moment, before he pulls off and curls his fingers gently around my face like it might break. Sobbing, I press my trembling hands into the bed covers and stare at him desperately. I bite my lip; I'm determined to shut up. He looks down at me and smiles.

"You did so well, Gary, that I'm going to allow you to speak. And if I like what you say, and if I think you've learned your lesson, you might get to come, after all."

Gasping for air, weeping, I can only manage, "Please."

"That's all you have to say?" He takes his fingers from my cheek and pulls the sweat soaked curls from my damp forehead. "That's a little disappointing."

I draw a breath. "Please, let me come...Mark..." I sob. Fucking hell, I need a tissue, my nose is filling up with snot. I sniffle.

"Here, Gaz, let me," he reaches across me to the tissue box on the bedside table and grabs a handful. He sits beside me on the bed with the tissue. I reach for it.

"No. Did I give you permission to move yet?" He gets really quiet. I freeze, in fear, then I can only shake my head a little.

Humiliated, I lay there sobbing while he mops up my face. He holds a wad up to my nose, and I blow a few times. I don't know why, but it makes me feel lower than when I was made to kneel on the floor. I feel a twinge of resentment and irritation. It doesn't even make sense. I feel like rebelling because of a fucking tissue, and not for getting my arse beat with a belt or being denied my orgasm? But I do. Swallowing through a lump in my throat, I look up into his handsome face, and I remember why we agreed on this a long time ago. I trust him too much to dishonour that. So I hold still because he told me to. Because it pleases him. And because it pleases me to submit to him, even if I am to be humiliated by doing so.

He tosses the snotty tissues onto the floor. "Beg some more, I like it." He says. His hand finds mine, pressed beside my hip, and he curls our fingers together. He leans in and deposits little kisses up my neck.

Shivering with pleasure and desire, I groan softly. "Mark, please, no more punishment. I'll be good. I'm sorry I didn't follow the rules." I squirm under his body as he grazes my neck with his teeth. "Please..."

"Hold still, Gary."

His hand finds my hard cock as he nibbles my earlobe, and he curls his fingers around it, lightly stroking, up and down. Almost immediately I feel it twitch, then throb and ache, and painful yearning floods my senses, all at once. I moan from deep within my belly and writhe under the touch. His teeth graze my ear, and he whispers, "Hold on, now, don't come. Hold still. Beg for me; you are getting me so hard for you, Gaz...so beautiful..."

Whimpering, I brace myself with my feet planted on the bed. "Please...please no more, I need to come. No more punishment, I beg you...please...I don't think I can hold on any longer!"

Yet again, tears seep from the corners of my eyes that are burning from so much crying. He keeps up the stroking, and kisses my cheek tenderly, then sits up to look at me and smile. I drink in that smile with my eyes as if my life depended on it.

"Gary," he says. He stops stroking me and just holds my cock as I gasp with need. "I forgive you. I love you. You took everything so wonderfully, so brave. How can I stay angry with you, when you're so beautiful?" He leans in to kiss me softly, tenderly; his lips fitting with mine, a perfect match, like us. He pulls off and wriggles down my body, until he again lays his head by my hips and wraps an arm around them.

"Let's try this again. Now, don't come..."

Panic rises in my throat, and I whisper, "Am I...still being punished?"

"Yes, but you're almost done, love. Don't come until I tell you that you can."

I take a deep breath and ready myself. Once more he wraps those pretty lips around my raging cock, and slowly, as I groan and ride the waves of pleasure and painful desire, he lovingly sucks and licks, in and out, deeper and deeper towards his throat, until I am writhing beneath him, hanging by a thread. He pulls off just in time, and climbs onto my sweaty body, lowering his hips over mine, and enveloping my near-exploding cock. When did he even prepare himself?

Eyelids fluttering, he throws his head back and grinds his hips into me, filling himself to the hilt.

Reaching up, I groan and wrap my hands around his shoulders. Then he pauses and looks down at me.

"Don't come. Don't come."

I am on the edge. "Please Mark...please!" Tears come to my eyes. "O-Oh Jesus...God, please, I have to come, please... _please_ , let me come!" I'm gasping and drenched in sweat.

He squeezes me, deep inside. I groan and whimper. I want to please him so badly. I squeeze my eyes shut, tight, and sob.

He says, as he caresses my face, "Open your eyes, Gary, and come. Come with me. I love you so much."

He's riding me, and I grab his slim hips and with just a few thrusts I explode inside him with an exquisite release. I'm carried away by the waves and pulses of pure, raw pleasure. I scream along with the pulsations, arch my back and lift my hips to drive myself and my love as far into him as I possibly can. He meets me there, his back arching, grinding into me, eyes closed, lips parted, his own sweet groan of passion drowned out by my unbridled yell of complete joy. It carries us, on and on, until, drenched in sweat, Mark collapses onto my chest. We gasp for air together, skin to skin. We seem to have forgotten what words mean.

Closing my eyes, I drape my arms over my boyfriend and squeeze him in a tight embrace.

After some time, he stirs, and climbs off of me, snuggling into my side. Drowsy, I roll over onto my side to face him. My arse still hurts like hell. He smirks at how quick I am to move onto my side once I'm allowed, because it's the first thing I always do after he gives me a beating.

He holds me close with one arm wrapped protectively around my back, under my arm. He is careful about avoiding the strips of red belt marks across my shoulder blades. Embracing me, steady and secure with one arm, he talks to me gently as he caresses my face with soft fingertips. I close my eyes and listen to his soft, kind voice.

"You are so good, Gary; you have now idea how happy you make me. You're safe now, no more punishment. You were perfect." He kisses me tenderly. I sigh with happiness and relief that he's happy with me; that I have pleased him. Releasing the kiss slowly, he rests his thumb on my bottom lip. "You okay?"

I open my eyes, nod and kiss his thumb before he takes it away. I cup his face in my hands and kiss him. "Thank you, Mark," I whisper. "I'll be good. I promise."

"I know you will, believe me. I hope I wasn't too hard on you, Gaz. But you really seemed like you needed a good seeing to. All day long, I've been thinking about whipping your sexy arse with that belt. We were sitting in that meeting, and I was looking at that silver belt buckle and hard black leather around your hips, and I was getting hard, just daydreaming about beating your lovely backside until it was nice and red and sore. I'm getting turned on again just thinking about it right now. Does it still hurt?"

I feel myself blushing, discovering the reason he'd been staring at me all morning. "Yes, very much."

"Good. That makes me hot. And I know it makes you hot too."

My face gets warmer. "It...does. I like it." I dip my head; all of a sudden turning shy. "Thank you, Mark."

Smiling, he takes his arm from my back to gently take my hands, one at a time, and kiss my wrists, which are red and even bruising a little from his tight restraints. I guess I'll be wearing long sleeves - really long sleeves - for rehearsals tomorrow, even though it won't matter. I'll forget, roll my sleeves up once I get a bit sweaty, and Howard will be a royal pain in the arse about it when he sees the raw redness and bruising around my wrists.  _Hey Gaz, you been playing the bitch recently? How's your arse? What did he use this time?_ he'll yell, when there's far too many people standing around. And I'll tell him to shut the fuck up. I smile a little at the picture in my mind.

Mark releases my hands, and wraps his arm around me. "What are you smiling about?"

"Howard and my wrists; I won't hear the end of it at rehearsals tomorrow."

He laughs a little. "That's your problem."

"Yes, I know. And then when they all notice that I'm not sitting down..."

He giggles again. "Once again, your problem, not mine. But if you're really good, maybe I'll put something on your arse to make it feel better. That nice smelling stuff I've used before, it feels kind of cool."

That sounds so good right now. It still hurts so much, I feel like crying. "I'm trying my best to be good. What else do I need to do?"

"Well, I'm really comfortable here. When I'm ready to go get it from downstairs, I'll get it, but I want to relax here for a little while. You don't mind waiting, do you?"

I'm in so much pain, but of course I say, "Of course I don't mind, Mark."

He looks at me, expectantly. Confused, I say, "I'm sorry, I...I don't know what you want me to do."

He brings his face close and kisses me. His lips are soft on mine, and he pushes my mouth open with his tongue, just enough to get me warm and make me groan a little. He pulls away enough to speak. "I want you to wait for it."

"I said-"

"On your knees, Gary."

I stare at him and feel a hot flush hit my cheeks. He's dead serious. Jesus fucking Christ.

With a sigh, I roll out of the bed and get on my knees.

And wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Have you guessed that I have a thing for sub Gary yet?


End file.
